


Comfort Food

by notjustmom



Series: Tumblr fics 2018-19 [7]
Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Comfort, First Date, First Kiss, M/M, Pre-Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-09
Updated: 2019-07-09
Packaged: 2020-06-25 06:17:47
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 924
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19739959
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/notjustmom/pseuds/notjustmom
Summary: Mycroft is a bit under the weather, until he gets a visit from the local DI, bearing Indian take-away.





	Comfort Food

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Vulpesmellifera](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Vulpesmellifera/gifts).



> This story was originally posted on tumblr as part of a giveaway, as I recently passed 400 followers. 
> 
> (and if you haven't discovered Vulpesmellifera's brilliant Mystrade stories, go and read them)

Up until this moment, they had always been ‘DI Lestrade’ and ‘Mr. Holmes’ in public, very correct, very proper, impersonal in the extreme, and there had never been any suggestion of anything that could possibly be construed as a ‘private’ relationship of any kind. 

And yet, there had always been the slightest ironic glint in the steely grey eyes that made the government official slightly warm under his tightly buttoned up collar, and he had, at times, wondered what if?

In the past he had found an excuse to turn and walk away; there was always a meeting with the PM, or a call of ‘international import’ that needed his immediate and most personal attention straight away.

But tonight, as he stood in the doorway of his London flat, on the third evening of a miserable bout of sinusitis, there was no place he could escape to, and he frankly lacked the energy to deny the man who stood there with a bag of Indian take-away. Sherlock was the obvious culprit, though, of course, Anthea had long made noises about a certain ‘silver fox,’ who had eyes to die for…

“Back to bed with you, Myc. D’ya mind if I call ya Myc? Mr. Holmes seems so -”

“Professionally appropriate?” Mycroft attempted to growl out, but coughed miserably into his handkerchief instead, and found himself meekly following the DI’s directions, sighing as he managed to make out the unmistakable scent of the only curry in town that was nearly always guaranteed to clear his sinuses. Definitely Anthea, then. He wasn’t sure whether he’d dock her a week’s pay or give her that corner office she’d had her eye on.

“Impersonal, I was thinking. We’ve known each other how long, now, Myc?” He placed the bag of curry on the bedside table and settled on the edge of the bed, as if he had… always belonged there. Mycroft cleared his throat and tried to remain neutral, but the onslaught of his closeness mixing with the scent of cardamom and cumin lowered his resistance to nil, and all he could do was open his mouth as Lestrade held a spoon to his lips.

“Nearly a decade? I believe… yeah, about that, I think.” He looked around Mycroft’s modest bedroom and raised an eyebrow in surprise. “Not quite what I was expecting -” he stopped speaking and for a few minutes turned his attention to patiently tending to Mycroft as if he were an invalid, and to be honest, he hadn’t really eaten in three days, and was too exhausted to care at this point. He would never admit it aloud, but he found he rather enjoyed this unusual form of what most people would consider foreplay. He couldn’t remember when he last felt so cared for and actually - loved? But… it wasn’t possible. Was it?

He looked up into the grey eyes as he offered him a cup of water with a straw, and he rested his hand over Lestrade’s, taking the trouble to note the light flush in his face darken and his eyes… yes, definitely at least some feeling there. As he sipped, he watched a slight smile dance across the detective’s lips and wondered what it would feel like… just once.

“There, now I understand from the owners that you are rather fond of their mango pudd, so if you are still hungry -”

Mycroft nodded and this time to his great satisfaction, Lestrade blushed furiously, and loosened his tie and collar just slightly. “A bit hot in here, mind if I take my jacket off?”

“Not at all, Gregory,” he croaked and found Lestrade studying him curiously as he slipped easily from his jacket from his broad shoulders, then stood to hang it on the back of the door, and returned silently to his perch on the bed. Again, Mycroft was surprised how easily he seemed to fit into his once private space.

“I, uhm, I just know how lonely it can be when you’re under the weather. I’m on my own, too, and that’s the worst part, I think, just being alone when you feel like absolute shite, excuse my language, but -” He opened the container of the dessert and grabbed another spoon from the bag, then once again held the spoon to Mycroft’s lips and pausing for the briefest of moments, flashed him a genuine smile, and whispered, “next time, just give me a call if you are feeling poorly.” To Mycroft’s astonishment, he then leaned over and pressed a gentle kiss to his forehead before continuing on with feeding him the creamy pudding he had been inordinately fond of from childhood.

“Sorry if I overstepped, Myc.” Lestrade whispered, then nervously replaced the container into the bag then turned as if to rise, but Mycroft gently laid a hand on his arm and with his eyes asked him to stay.

“Until you fall asleep?”

Mycroft nodded once more and closed his eyes as Lestrade began describing his day, which usually consisted of tiresome piles of paperwork and endless phone calls, but that morning, there had been an intriguing case of fraud, that had taken him most of the day to unravel successfully. Mycroft tried to follow, but the drugs he had taken before Lestrade’s arrival were finally kicking in, and soon he was on the edge of sleep, but aware enough to register Lestrade’s gentle kiss on his cheek, and a whispered promise of a second date lingered in his ear as sheer exhaustion finally overtook his senses, and he rested at last.


End file.
